Chapter 31 The Setup
Alessia slept for only three hours.
When she woke, sunlight filtered through the blinds, painting the penthouse in harsh lines. She could hear movement—papers rustling, quiet footsteps.
She found Liam in his study, surrounded by a chaotic spread of papers, maps, and open laptops. His hair was disheveled, his face drawn, and his eyes bloodshot from too little sleep. He looked like he hadn’t moved since she’d gone to bed.
“You should rest,” she said from the doorway, her voice tight.
“I’ll rest when Cormac is dead.” His gaze didn’t lift. “Come in. We need to plan.”
She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. The study felt different now—less like enemy territory, more like a war room. A place where decisions could mean life or death.
Liam gestured toward the desk. “I’ve been mapping Cormac’s movements, his allies, his resources. He’s quietly building support within the family. But it’s there.”
“How many are with him?”
“At least a third of the O’Sullivan soldiers. Maybe more.” His jaw tightened. “He’s offering them what I can’t—immediate power, the old ways, no messy transition to legitimacy.”
“Promises the old ways,” Alessia murmured, swallowing.
“Exactly.” Liam tapped a list of names. “These men are loyal to me. These are loyal to Cormac. And these…” He gestured at another column. “Undecided. Waiting to see who wins.”
Alessia studied it. “Not enough loyal soldiers to face him head-on.”
“No.” He pulled up a chair for her. “We have to be smarter. Expose him. Force him to reveal himself in a way that turns even his supporters against him.”
“How?”
“We make him think he’s winning.” His eyes were sharp, calculating. “We feed him evidence that the marriage is fake, that I’m weak, that my alliance with the Scarpettis is crumbling. Make him confident enough to act.”
“And then?”
“We catch him. In the act. Attempting a coup. Betraying the family. Violating Council orders.” Liam’s smile was cold. “The Council hates chaos. If he moves openly, they’ll authorize his removal.”
Alessia nodded slowly, heart thudding. “So you want to bait him.”
“Not just me. Us.” Liam turned to face her fully. “This works only if he sees you as the weak link. If he believes you’re scared, trapped, desperate for a way out.”
“You want me to approach him.”
“I want you to betray me. Convincingly. Publicly.” His voice was flat, steady. “You go to Cormac. You tell him your collective has been gathering intelligence. Offer to feed him information in exchange for protection when he moves.”
Her stomach twisted. “Dangerous.”
“Very.” Liam didn’t soften it. “Cormac is smart. Ruthless. One misstep and you’re dead.”
“So I have to sell it completely.”
“Completely.” He opened a file. “Your collective story helps. You claim to have dirt on both families. Enough for him to believe he’s getting an advantage.”
“What kind of dirt?”
“Real stuff, mixed with false details to misdirect him.” Liam showed her documents—financial records with subtle errors, communications that looked authentic but led nowhere. “Believable, but a trap.”
Alessia studied the files. Someone had done this meticulously. Strategically. Impressive—but terrifying.
“And when he takes the bait?”
“He’ll move against me. Likely during the next Council meeting—a week from now. Maximum visibility. Maximum legitimacy if he succeeds.” Liam’s face was grim. “But we’ll be ready. Evidence of his conspiracy will expose him before it’s too late.”
“And if something goes wrong?”
His hand found hers. Bandaged palm pressing against hers. “Together.”
The blood oath. Still binding.
“Okay,” she whispered. “How do I approach him?”
The approach had to be subtle. Desperate. Convincing.
Over the next two days, they rehearsed every detail. Alessia made herself visible—and vulnerable. She left the penthouse alone, wandered the city without security, looked over her shoulder constantly.
Shopping, coffee shops, parks—always alone, always afraid. To anyone else, she looked abandoned. Helpless.
On the third day, she made contact. A handwritten note, delivered through a server at one of Cormac’s favorite restaurants:
We need to talk. I have information. —A.S.
Six hours later, a reply:
Riverside Park. East entrance. Tomorrow. Noon. Come alone.
She showed Liam.
“He’s taking the bait,” he said. “But he’ll have eyes everywhere. You need to be alone.”
“How will you know I’m safe?”
“You won’t be.” His voice was hard. “But snipers are positioned. If he tries anything… they’ll intervene.”
“Comforting.”
“Realistic.” Liam gripped her shoulders. “Cormac is paranoid. You need to be scared, desperate, convincing.”
“I can do scared and desperate,” she said.
“I know you can.” Something flickered in his expression. “Just remember—you’re stronger than he thinks. Smarter. If things go sideways, you know how to fight back.”
She nodded, throat tight.
“And Alessia?” His forehead touched hers briefly. “Come back to me. Whatever happens, come back.”
“I will.”
It felt like a promise. Another vow.
Riverside Park at noon was lively with joggers, tourists, people enjoying the late autumn sun. Alessia wore jeans, a simple jacket, hair pulled back. Minimal makeup. She looked tired. Scared. Perfectly believable.
She entered from the east entrance, found an empty bench overlooking the water, and waited.
Cormac appeared ten minutes later, approaching casually, sunglasses on, expensive casual clothes. Predatory.
He sat beside her without asking.
“Mrs. O’Sullivan,” he said smoothly. “How unexpected.”
“I need your help,” she said quietly, not looking at him.
“And why would I help my nephew’s wife?” His arm draped across the back of the bench—not touching, but close enough to intimidate.
“Because I’m not really his wife.” She turned, letting fear show. “The marriage is fake. We barely speak. I’m trapped.”
“How tragic.”
“I have information,” Alessia pressed. “About the O’Sullivans. Operations, finances, weaknesses. My organization’s been gathering it.”
“Your organization?”
“I work for a collective. Former intelligence operatives. Placed me with the Scarpettis to gather intelligence.” The half-truth slipped out naturally. “The marriage was an opportunity—access to both families.”
“And you’re offering to betray them? And my nephew?”
“I’m offering to survive.” Her voice cracked convincingly. “I never wanted this. I wanted justice for my mother. But I’m stuck between families now, and I’ll be collateral damage no matter who wins.”
Cormac studied her.
“Unless?” he prompted.
“Unless I align with the winning side.” Her gaze met his. “You’re making a play. If you succeed, I want to be on your side.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then this conversation never happened.”
Cormac smiled, eyes cold.
“What information do you have?”
Alessia handed him the USB drive prepared by Liam—truth and misdirection, carefully mixed. “Financial records. Communications. Cartel deal details. Proof that Liam is making the family vulnerable.”
He turned it over in his fingers. “And what do you want in return?”
“Protection. Safety. Freedom from both families.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s everything.”
Cormac leaned closer. Breath of whiskey and cigarettes. Her stomach twisted.
“Betray him,” he said softly. “And I’ll make you my queen. More power than as Liam’s bride. More freedom. More respect.”
His hand brushed a strand of her hair. She forced herself not to recoil.
“But betray me,” his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, “and I’ll mail your fingers to your father—starting with the left hand. Your wedding ring hand.”
She swallowed hard. Not a flinch. Not a sign of fear that he could use.
“I understand,” she said quietly.
“Do you?” His hand rested lightly on her throat. “You think you can play both sides. I know when someone’s lying.”
Alessia’s heart hammered. She held steady. “I’m not lying.”
“We’ll see.” He stood, walking away into the crowd.
Alone, Alessia sat, forcing herself to slow her breathing.
Three blocks away, a black SUV pulled up. Liam was inside.
She climbed in and collapsed against him.
“It’s done,” she whispered.
“I know. We were listening.” His arms wrapped around her tightly. “You did perfectly.”
“He threatened to mail my fingers to my father.”
“I heard.” Liam’s voice hardened. “When this is over… I’m going to kill him for that.”
They drove back in silence, her head on his shoulder.
She’d sold it. Cormac believed her.
The trap was set.
Now all they could do was survive.